


Dead Man Walking

by yellowflowers



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Pain, i really truly don't know what to tag this i'm at a loss here people, pain as in I hurt Damien for reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 22:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowflowers/pseuds/yellowflowers
Summary: "Make sure that bastard stays dead."Damien willingly becomes the villain of Mark's story. But only for his sister's sake. He is transformed and he thinks that Celine is right. There's no going back and now he's changed. Forever.---Damien turns into Dark and Mark's alternate ending comes into play





	Dead Man Walking

\---

 

_“Make sure that bastard stays dead.”_

 

The wall broke apart and the freezing water gushed out, engulfing them and sweeping them away. Damien was pinned to the wall of the cabin, helpless and unable to move. He saw Celine slowly sink in the water and found some relief in that she was ok. She deserved rest. But Damien was very much awake and without a clue on where to go from here.

 

The water numbed him and his vision grew darker and darker until he couldn’t see or hear anything anymore. Even if he did know what was going on, there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

 

He waited. He didn’t dare move until, finally, his vision gradually came back. Slowly, he tested his limbs and found that he could move freely again. He stepped away from the wall and looked around the cabin, but what he saw left him dumbfounded.

 

Everything had… changed. Somehow it looked nicer. There was a lovely if somewhat worn out rug lying on an equally worn yet polished wooden floor. The table and chairs weren't roughly made but loving crafted into a more elegant design. The windows were dusted and bestowed with thick curtains, the fireplace was clean and kept, and the bed was made and fluffed.

 

Even the mirror had been adorned with a more decorative frame, yet the mirror itself had become dull and cracked, with missing pieces here and there. He swallowed as it glinted in the weak sunlight; just glancing at it made him incredibly uneasy. He felt if he were to turn his back to it for a moment, he'd be snatched away and eaten alive.

 

Considering all that had happened to him so far, his fear wasn't totally unfounded.

 

Cautiously, he let his eyes stray to the unconscious body of his sister, laid on the floor in her soggy clothes. It couldn’t have been comfortable but she slept soundly anyway.

 

Shrugging off his nerves, he picked her up with a grunt and carried her to the bed, trying not to jostle her too much. He wasn’t weak by any means but Celine was a grown woman and her being soaked to the bone didn't make things any easier. He practically dumped her on the bed, but seeing as how she didn't wake up to scold him, it didn’t seem to matter to Celine.

 

He set to work, taking off her waterlogged boots, socks, and coat. He considered taking off her pants so she wouldn't catch a cold from wet clothes, but then he remembered that they were dead, so he left it well enough alone.

 

After tucking her in, he was satisfied that she was ok, so he turned to get up and leave. Halfway to the door, however, he stopped himself. Something wasn't right.

 

He could feel it.

 

It glared at him. It didn't like being ignored.

 

With bated breath, he listened for some indication of what was in the room with them.

 

He heard nothing but a faint, faint pitch of static that wasn't there before.

 

Ever so slowly, he turned his head to look back at whatever was there.

 

He could just barely see the mirror in the corner of his eyes when he stopped. He could feel something stirring in him.

 

Maybe he focused on it for a moment too long or maybe it was inevitable, but he was struck with a sudden panging, ringing and slamming around in his hollow chest.

 

He doubled over, mostly from the absolute shock of it, but then the pain came quickly after and it came so suddenly, it knocked him to his knees and left him shaking, gasping with cold rotted lungs.

 

He was hit with a blistering cold sensation, burning into his skin with no sign of letting up. He could feel it crawling in his guts and up his throat, threatening to choke him. He was being stretched and compressed, wound up and wrung out and there wasn’t anything that could stop it.

 

But what terrified Damien the most was just how silent everything was. No howling wind, no creaking doors, and even as he screamed and wailed, not a single sound could be heard from the man.

 

Desperate, he turned to Celine. She hadn’t stirred in the slightest. Spasms ran through the shaking man's body as he tried to crawl to his sister for help, but the pain only intensified, his head pounding and caving in on itself, eyes turning red and bloody until his tears came out thick and black.

 

He thought he saw Celine stand before him but when he looked back at the bed she was still there, asleep. Nonetheless, he used the last of his strength to reach out to this vision of Celine, hoping she would help, but she stepped away, refusing to let him touch her.

 

He writhed on the floor; his pain was endless as he underwent with this change, his sight tinted a bright scarlet.

 

He wanted to beg for the pain to stop, he wanted to demand the vision to take the pain away. In that moment of anger and selfishness, a single coherent thought ran through his head as he glared at the vision: **_How could she let this happen?_ **

 

As if she had read his mind, sorrow clouded over the neutral face she wore. She gazed at him with pitiful eyes and his pain only intensified until finally, she left. She walked past him and out the door and the pain had instantaneously been swept from his body, leaving him immensely exhausted.

 

He could barely move and he lost track of how long he laid there, limp and tired. All the while, his eyesight had dimmed from the violent, alarming red back to normal.

 

Well. Almost normal.

 

He could just barely make out the colors of the room, but every time he tried to focus on a single object, the colors would flicker and quickly fade out to shades of gray, leaving only the barest of color to fizzle away at the edges. It seemed like he could only ever see colors out of the corner of his eye. It was interesting but he was sure it would quickly become maddening if he focused on it for too long.

 

He tested out his limbs and found he could move again, if only very slowly. He breathed long and deep and pushed himself up to stand.

 

Surprisingly, despite his previous agony, he was completely fine. Maybe his neck and joints ached a little and the distinct hollowness in his chest felt more pronounced but otherwise, he couldn't feel a thing. It was jarring, to say the least.

 

His eyes flitted to the bed where the real Celine was still sleeping. He wondered if she knew what had just happened to him, if she was really there with him in spirit, if not physically. Maybe he'd ask her one day. It's unlikely he ever will, but maybe.

 

He gazed around the room until something completely out of place caught his eye.

 

It was draped over a chair and like everything else, the color was barely visible, fizzling at the edges, but... something was happening to it. The longer he looked, the more the colors that outlined it fought back. Slowly but surely, the color ate away at the grays until finally, the original color had taken back it's rightful place.

 

It was pink.

 

It was a wonderfully, lovely pink and he stared at it until he realized that he had crept right up to it as if afraid to break the illusion.

 

Hesitantly, he reached out to touch it and to his immense relief, it stayed defiantly pink. He stroked it, noting how smooth and soft it was. He picked it up and laid it out on the table the chair was tucked into.

 

It was a shirt.

 

A ridiculous pink satin shirt and he couldn't stop feeling the fabric as if it meant something to him. And maybe it did. The shirt was a brief respite in a sea of grays and blacks and maybe it reminded him of when everything was normal.

 

He nearly laughed. Normal. What a concept.

 

He picked it up and folded it neatly to tuck it away in his jacket.

 

Everything quickly faded out to black again, but at least this time, he regained his sight much more quickly.

 

The plush and warm cabin was gone and he was left in a desecrated place they once called home. Windows were shattered, the table and chairs were broken and on their sides, even the door had been ripped off its hinges. The mirror laid face down, with shards of glass scattered around it.

 

He glanced at the waterlogged bed, but Celine wasn’t there.

 

She wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

 

He patted his coat and was relieved to find that he still had the shirt with him, though his own hands looked different. They were outlined in blue… and red.

 

He couldn’t see her but she was still here, and the knot of worry in him immediately loosened.

 

Sensations began to wash over him, the cold water dripping from his frame, yet he felt burning hot to the touch. He peered through the darkness and with heavy steps, he trudged to the cabin entrance, gripping the doorframe. He was exhausted and he really just wanted to rest, but he knew now wasn’t the time. He needed to leave.

 

He stepped out, steam rising up from where he connected to the cold wet earth.

 

He could feel it building up and boiling in him, the single thought that was now permanently stamped into his mind.

 

**_Make sure that bastard stays dead._ **

 

A sudden burst of his aura screamed through the frigid silence and his exhaustion was completely wiped away, replaced with a burning and murderous determination that flooded his veins.

 

Stronger than ever, he briskly walked out, his steps scalding the soaked dirt beneath him.

 

He made it several yards when a voice called out to him.

 

“Oh, there you are Damien! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

He glanced over to see a man casually strolling through the mud to greet him. He was incredibly vibrant. Shiny black curls. Tanned skin. Bright eyes. And a bushy mustache with the very ends tinted a wonderfully, lovely pink. William looked so different but there's no denying that it was him. A warm fondness fell over Damien as he turned to his old friend.

 

“Oh hi, Will.”

 

William grinned brilliantly and pointed to Damien’s chest.

 

"Ah! You found it! Thank you, Damien! I've been looking for this all over the place, I can’t seem to keep track of the finicky thing.”

 

Damien glanced down to see that the shirt he had tucked away was peeking out over the folds of his coat. He pulled it out and returned it to Will, who apparently owned such a thing.

 

Will eagerly grabbed it and shrugged it on over his yellow shirt, eyes darting around their surroundings. “Say, you haven’t seen Celine around anywhere, have you? If I can avoid her, I’d rather do it.”

 

Damien thought back to the empty cabin. “She’s sleeping,” he assured him.

 

“Oh good, oh good, great!” Obvious relief passed over William’s face before excitement sparkled in his eyes again, “Well anyway, I’m glad I found you! I got a great new idea! We’re gonna make a TV show!”

 

He blinked at William. He thought about it and blinked again.

 

“Ok.”

 

As he followed after William, he didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t have a clue as to what the hell a TV is, but he’ll go with it anyway. Damien will stick by him and he’ll see to it that William never strays too far.

 

William is important and Damien’s furious determination is strengthened.

 

He’ll wait and plan as long as he needs to, but one thing is certain.

 

Mark is a dead man walking and Damien will finally be the one to put him in the ground.

 

Right where he belongs.

 

Forever.

 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Ok yes, this was based off another very vivid dream I had, apparently, I'm only creative when I'm unconscious. Also, I loved the Wilford ending so obvs I had to add that. Anyways, thanks for reading! Kudos and comments make my heart go hog wild!


End file.
